


somewhere lost and out of time

by MANIAvinyl



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol But It’s Not That Bad, Alcohol Trigger Warning, Alcoholic Tony Stark, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Awesome Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Angst, Comfort/Angst, Depression, F/M, Gen, Guilty Conscience, Heavy Angst, Hurt Tony, Hurt Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Legal issues, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Other, Panic, Panic Attacks, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Feels, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark Friendship, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Suicide trigger warning, Tony Angst, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Tony Stark Has Panic Attacks, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Has Self-Esteem Issues, Tony Stark Has Trust Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric, trigger warnings apply
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-01-26 19:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21379330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MANIAvinyl/pseuds/MANIAvinyl
Summary: They say admitting your mistakes is half the battle. But what happens when everything you’ve done seems to be a mistake?Tony’s been thinking that a lot recently. It’s not like he’s directly suicidal, or anything, it’s just that he wouldn’t exactly mind if he died right now. That’s all. He wouldn’t mind if the glass shattered under his touch as he leaned a little too hard on the window panes of his office. He wouldn’t mind if both jet engines failed and they were sent spiraling into the north atlantic. It all seemed so unimportant anyways.(Sokovia happens, and the weeks following aren’t pretty.)
Relationships: Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Nick Fury & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Enjoy

They say admitting your mistakes is half the battle. But what happens when everything you’ve done seems to be a mistake?

Tony’s been drinking for about a week straight. He’s pretty sure he’s only a few days away from his liver failing him entirely— though he won’t allow FRIDAY to run any tests. He doesn’t want to know.

Pepper’s gone, too, which can’t help. They’re still talking, of course, but he can’t forget the fear in her eyes when she told him that she was afraid. She wouldn’t say what of, but he knew it was him. She said she’d take a few weeks off.

Right now he’s staring at the sunrise, mind hazy from both another sleepless night and the empty bottle of jack whiskey in his left hand. He can’t believe how beautiful the orange sun is on the tops of the buildings. He stares at the sparkles so long he’s sure his eyes are bleeding from the sun’s rays, but he can’t find it in him to care. If that’s how he goes, that’s how he goes.

He’s been thinking that a lot recently. It’s not like he’s directly suicidal, or anything, it’s just that he wouldn’t exactly mind if he died right now. That’s all. 

He wouldn’t mind if the glass shattered under his touch as he leaned a little too hard on the window panes of his office. He wouldn’t mind if both jet engines failed and they were sent spiraling into the atlantic. It all seemed so unimportant anyways.

Nobody had checked in on him after they’d all gone home. They didn’t have the obligation to, anyway, but he figured it might’ve been nice. It’s fine, though, he decides, because it’s his fault Banner— or, _Hulk_— left in the first place. It’s not like Natasha would be very fond of him right now. Actually, the whole Sokovia thing was just his fault in general; it’s not like _anyone_ would be very frond of him right now. Hell, he doesn’t even like himself.

But... what’s new?

Fury, and SHIELD— or what’s left of it— had told him they’d taken care of the legal side of things. They’d plead guilty to a few federal charges that mostly required him to fully fund cleanup, which he was going to do already. A naturally guilty conscience made sure of that. 

He never had to actually step foot in court. Which was a nice consolation, because he’s sure if he had to actually defend himself in front of a jury, he couldn’t go three minutes without breaking down. If he were them, by now he’d have put him in some far away, high security prison so he couldn’t touch or hurt any living thing every again. But that just wasn’t the way of the world. 

So now it was just him, his bottle of whiskey, the 600 million dollar tower beneath his feet, and the rising sun to keep him company.

—

There was a point where he could hardly remember what it was like to be able to see straight at all. He almost forgot the feeling of guilt altogether— but not really. It was always kind of there, beneath it all, like the foundations of a building, underlining everything. Every numb thought, every breath, every heartbeat. 

He knew had to get himself off his ass somehow, he just couldn’t figure out where to start. FRIDAY had sent him many an alert, telling him that prolonged drinking of this caliber potentially has considerable and unimaginable health risks, and he should probably be hospitalized by now. He can’t bring himself to care, which seems like a red flag in itself. 

Even so, it’s been hours since he’s had his last sip of whiskey— mostly because he’s run out of the stuff upstairs and would have to unlock to cellar to get to the stuff downstairs, and he’s not sure if he wants to put in that amount of effort. He’d rather just sit here, and wither away in silence, sober for once— when they find his body, at least. That part makes him laugh. It’s all ironic anyways. He knows he’s not really going to die, but sometimes that seems like the easier option.

He lays back on the reclining chair, seemly for hours but it must’ve only been thirty or forty minutes, as the sharp, piercing sun bakes his exposed skin. It’s not like it’s very hot outside—it’s a New York morning, after all— but the mixture of the chilly air and the gentle, beating sun seems to remind him of some time long past. Something from his childhood, he’s sure. 

Somewhere in the back of his consciousness, he’s aware of the elevator doors opening. He doesn’t think much of it because that used to be a normal thing— Pepper coming home, or one of the team, or some lawyer. Usually, this penthouse was alive with activity. Now, it should only be him.

He sits up quickly, head pounding for a moment at the sudden rush of blood, hazily trying to focus on whoever just walked in. He isn’t scared, or anything, just confused. He hasn’t communicated with anyone in days. 

The pressure behind his eyes only builds as he tries to stare through the windows that sharply reflects the bright rising sun. 

Finally, Steve’s figure comes into view, and Tony rolls his eyes and turns back around. It‘s not until Steve slides the glass door open that Tony acknowledges his presence.

“You can’t just walk into someone else’s house,” he mutters, surprised at how weak his voice sounds in his own ears. He hasn’t spoken at all in days.

Steve laughs a little, squinting up at the horizon. “Yeah, well...”

“What if I were just in my underwear? What would you have done?”

“Tell you to put some pants on, probably.”

Tony smirks, nodding a little bit before dropping the smile. He feels as exhausted as he looks, so he shuts his mouth and lets Steve say whatever he came here to say.

Instead of speaking, though, he just sits down next to him and watches the sun climb higher in the sky. Tony doesn’t have the energy to ask why he’s here, and Steve doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. Besides, as much as Tony hates to admit, human presence is kind of nice.

Thy sit there for a while before Steve says anything.

“Fury tell you how the hearing went?”

“I got an email.”

“All you gotta do is write some checks.”

“I’ll write as many fucking checks as I can, but... but it won’t be enough.” Tony lays back on the reclining chair. 

“Your relief funds take care of—“

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Oh.” 

Tony swallows. “Yeah.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Probably,” Tony sighs. “It’s wearing off, though.”

“Jesus.”

“Oh, don’t act surprised.”

“I’m not surprised. I’m worried.”

“How touching. Truly. Well, news for you, cap—“

“What? I don’t need to be worried about you?” Steve interrupts. “Where’s Pepper? Can you answer that?”

“I— well, no, she—“ Tony swallows. “We’re on a break.”

“You know why?”

“Because I fucked up,” Tony answers plainly. “I put the world in danger. I put _my_ world in danger— that’s her.”

“How do you fix something like this?” Steve asks softly, after a moment. “What can you do, Tony? Because I don’t like the idea of you rattling about in this mansion in the sky all alone.”

“Doesn’t look like I’ve got any other choice,” Tony says. He suddenly feels the urge to throw his empty bottle of whiskey over the railing, but he doesn’t. 

“Do you know where everyone is?”

“Why should I?”

“I don’t know.” Steve sighs. “I just thought—“

“What? What did you think?” Tony interrupts, angry. “That I would just float back home, get the team back together again... why? Because we’re supposed to be a ‘family’?” He shakes his head, standing up. “This isn’t some fantasy, Steve.”

He steps inside, shutting his eyes. His head pounds with the physical effort of moving his body, and he stumbles towards the kitchen. 

He hears Steve follow him inside.

His hands expertly unscrew the bottle of painkillers as if they’ve done it a thousand times before. He pops two down the back of his throat, downing it with a glass of water. 

“Tony, you...”

“What?” Tony mutters, lifting his head up.

“You look terrible.”

Tony just rolls his eyes and leans his elbows against the counter. 

“What have you been doing?” Steve asks, voice gentle. Tony can’t believe how gentle he‘s being.

“Drinking,” he replies honestly, beat. “Tried to watch TV, but the news was too... much.”

“That’s it?”

“You know, the trial. Fury told me I’d be fine, which, I am, but... whatever.”

“Tony...”

“It’s fine. I’m gonna be fine. This always happens.”

“You always create a killer robot who almost destroys earth?” Steve’s words have a hint of dark humor.

“No.” Tony swallows. “The depressed feeling comes back. You know, once everyone else goes home. I’m gonna be fine, though. Don’t worry about me.” He says it quickly, as if shame would have the time to settle is he said it slower.

Steve stares at him for a moment. “This time you don’t have Pepper.”

Tony smiles emptily. “No, I do not.”

“Talk to me. This is making me nervous.”

“I am talking to you. Listen,” he says, tapping his fingers. “I told her this, too... I’m going to be fine, because if I can’t live without her, I don’t deserve her at all.”

“Did she say she was coming back?”

“Not... directly. It was implied.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “I see.”

“You don’t have to see. I know Pepper.”

“I believe you.”

Tony swallows. “Are— where are you staying? Where is everyone staying?”

“Sam, Natasha, and I are in and out of hotels right now.”

“High end living.”

Steve laughs. There’s something about it that’s serious, though. “Height of luxury.”

“It’s obviously been treating you well, cap.”

“It’s... I’m alright.”

Tony nods, eyes unfocused. There’s something about the way it seems like his walls are crumbling that makes Steve’s stomach hurt. Tony shouldn’t be here.

“Big empty tower in the sky,” he murmurs. “I don’t want you to be alone, Tony.”

“I’m not alone. I’ve got FRIDAY.”

“The AI?”

Tony smirks, but doesn’t respond. 

Steve sighs. “An AI isn’t a person.”

“Close enough,” Tony says. 

“There are still tenants, right?”

“I think so. I don’t get out much.”

“Tony...”

“What?”

Steve swallows, eyes burning into Tony. “You’ve got to get off your ass.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious. Sitting around and drinking solves nothing. It does nothing to ease your conscience. You’re gonna kill yourself, Tony.”

“That’s the plan,” he mutters under his breath, moving his eyes from Steve’s face to the cold, pale sky above. 

“What was that?”

Tony shakes his head and sighs. “Look. Pepper’s still in charge of Stark Industries, and she’s helping me distribute funds. I can’t— I’m not going to—“

“You don’t want to get involved.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“It is what you’re saying.”

“I—“ Tony hesitates. “Fine. Whatever.”

“You can help in other ways.”

“What do you suggest?” Tony asks defiantly, turning his head. 

“Public outreach, maybe? Fundraisers?”

“Why in the hell would I need to hold a fundraiser?”

“It makes people feel better about themselves,” Steve reasons. “You could— go on TV? Make yourself known?”

“I am known.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

Tony pauses, debating the options. “TV?”

“You know, talkshow hosts, morning news, I don’t know.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Tony bites his cheek. “I’ll talk to Pepper about it. She handles all that.”

“Okay.”

Tony swallows, glancing out the window to his right. The mid-morning sun is being eaten by clouds that look far too angry. It’s oddly fitting.

“You think it’ll rain?” Tony asks.

“Maybe?” Steve shakes his head. “You can’t just change the subject, you know.”

“I’m not changing the subject,” Tony mutters. “What subject? We’re not even talking about anything.”

This is why Steve made him angry sometimes. He walked around like knew everything, like he understood all the shit that goes on in everybody’s head, like he has the cure to it all. 

“Tony—“

“No, stop talking,” Tony snaps. “You don’t know anything. You act like you know everything, and you don’t.”

“This is why you have to talk to me—“

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” he snarls. “They fed it to you, didn’t they? They told you that you were the savior, that you had all the answers, and now it’s just gotten to your head. Newsflash, cap, you’re not all-knowing.”

Steve falls silent, and something about that takes Tony by surprise. But he can’t stop now.

“You don’t know what it’s like to drink yourself to death. You don’t know what it’s like to see the only person who really loves you, who you love, too, walk out your front door, and it’s all your fault. You don’t know what it’s like to watch the sunrise over this city and know that if not for a fuck ton of luck, it wouldn’t even be here at all.” Tony took a deep breath, angry eyes burning into Steve’s. “You spent so long on the ice that you don’t even know what it’s like to be human anymore.”

“That’s not true,” Steve whispers. “You know it’s not.”

“I don’t know anything anymore,” Tony says, and the exhaustion is back in his voice. The sharp anger is gone, and now all he feels is a thrumming sadness that sort of makes him want to fling himself off the side of the empire state building. He feels like drowning in a bottle of jack, but he’s here right now, with Steve, so that’s not really an option. “It’s like I’m running,” Tony whispers. “And my body is failing me but I’m so far from the finish line.”

“Seems like I can’t help you,” Steve murmurs, eyes wary. “I don’t know what it’s like to be human.” 

And then—

And then he left. He got up from his seat at the bar and walked into the elevator without another look.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha: enter scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank u to everyone reading this! I’ll try to make the next chapter a little quicker but honestly idk when that will be :)

He can’t remember how many sunrises pass until he talks to another person. He’s pretty sure it’s a miracle he’s still alive at all.

He thought about calling Steve back, telling him sorry, but he could never find the strength to do it. He could never drop his ego, because even though he hates himself for it, his ego is all he really has going for him anymore.

He hasn’t touched his phone in days. It’s not like he’s spiraling or anything, because it’s really not that dramatic. It’s more that he’s slowly becoming a ghost. He shuts down all of FRIDAY’s systems but a few.

So when she does speak, it surprises him.

“Boss, incoming call.”

“From who?” He asks, and winces at the way his voice crumbles.

“Natasha Romanov.”

He blinks, looking around for his phone. He doesn’t really have the energy to go and find it, though, so he stays on the couch and just tells FRIDAY to answer.

There’s a crackle, and Tony’s eyebrows furrow for a second, because, for all the money and effort he spends on technology, there shouldn’t really be any cell connection issues. Oh, well.

“So when are you coming back from the dead?” Natasha’s voice rings out from above him, and for some reason it’s a strange sound to him. A strange question, too, but he never pays any notice to that.

“Maybe never,” he replies, and it’s meant to be a joke but he falters when he realizes it’s more truth than not.

Natasha laughs, grants him that one little dignity, and he’s thankful for that.

He leans back against the couch so his head rests above the backrest, staring up at the ceiling. He studies the square pattern; he never gets a good look at the ceiling.

“You’re in town, I assume?”

“Always.” His voice is still strange in his throat.

“Okay, just checking. I’m in your lobby. Didn’t want to come up unless you knew.”

Tony sits up. “What?”

“I’m in your lobby,” she repeats. “Downstairs.”

“My lobby. You’re in my lobby?”

“Yes. I’m coming up now, though, so don’t bother with security. I’ve got a key, remember.”

Tony can’t help but smirk.

—

“Holy shit,” she says, standing in the doorway of the elevator. He leans against the back of the couch, smiling emptily.

“What?” he asks, even though he knows what she’s thinking.

“You look like shit. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I shower!”

“Maybe last week,” she retorts.

“Whatever.”

Natasha sets her stuff down on the counter, untying her hair. 

“I heard you kicked Steve out,” she says. 

“I didn’t kick him out. He left.”

“I see.” She sighs. “You know, there are only a few people in this world who care about you, Tony. I mean, really care about you. You can’t keep pushing us away.”

“First of all, I’m not pushing you away. Second of all, Steve was being an asshole. Like he always is.”

“Alright. Well, I’m just telling you.”

Tony doesn’t say anything after that. He doesn’t remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep, and it seems to hit him all at once. He feels like breaking down again, but doesn’t.

“Anyways,” Natasha says, taking a seat at the breakfast bar, still turned to face him. “The reason I came.”

“There’s a reason? You didn’t just want to see me?” There’s a hint of familiar sarcasm, and he sees Natasha smile a little bit.

“That, and something else.” Her tone seems to shift, and it makes him nervous.

“If it’s so serious, why don’t you go to Fury?” He asks.

“I did go to Fury. Weeks ago. But... I figured I’d give you the news first, before you see it anywhere else.”

“What... news?” He asks, growing suspicious. He’s not sure if we can handle much, but he doesn’t want to tell her that. He hardly even wants to admit that to himself.

“Steve didn’t tell you anything, did he?”

“He didn’t tell me any news, no.”

“Bruce is gone. Like, really gone, Tony.“

“That’s not news,” he points out.

“No. We knew he was missing in action, yes, but the quin-jet, it’s not in our atmosphere anymore. I— I don’t know why, what he’s doing, but... he’s left Earth.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tony mutters. He doesn’t want to ask the question. _How long can he survive up there?_ Because deep down, Tony knows the truth. Bruce didn’t want to survive. He finally gave in.

“Yeah. We caught a trace of its signature near the edge of our atmosphere last week.”

“Natasha, I—“ Tony falters. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not, you...” he trails off, unsure of what to say. “You... and him...”

“We weren’t anything,” Natasha murmurs. “Don’t worry.”

“No, but... it could’ve been, right?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows.”

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“I’m really not the one we should be worried about,” she says, looking up. “That’s you.”

“Me?” he says disdainfully. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe this?” She opens a cabinet full of empty alcohol bottles.

Tony nods once, flashing a broken smirk and leans back against the couch. Again, his fight was gone.

Her face seems to soften, and Tony wonders if he really looks that bad. It’s been a while since he’s seen his own reflection. 

Neither of them say anything for a while. Natasha sits at the breakfast bar, in the same seat that Steve sat at last week. 

Steve didn’t really do anything to him. He didn’t really say anything, it was just Tony’s anger speaking, looking for something to be angry about.

Petty soon he decides that it’s worth cleaning up. He doesn’t really know how he reaches that conclusion, but it’s like a little bit of strength has been returned, and he’s willing to put that back into himself rather than to waste it on more conflict. Also, Natasha is here, and a part of him feels guilty for being another burden to her. She already lost Bruce.

He pats his hand down on the couch behind him.

“Well, make yourself comfortable,” he tells her. “I have pizza in the freezer if you want it.”

“This place, all those cars, private jets, and all you have is frozen pizza?” It’s her familiar sarcasm that creeps into her voice, and they both seem to relax.

He chuckles, and even though it’s an empty sound, he feels more present than he has in a long while.

“I’ll be back in a half-hour,” he murmurs. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Natasha usually doesn’t let people read her so easily, and maybe it’s the fact that he’s known her for this long, or maybe she lets her guard down around him, but for a moment, she looks scared. He knows exactly why.

“Don’t worry,” he says, trying to make his voice sound light. “I’m just taking a shower.”

He sees her relax, and something in him relaxes, too.

He turns and listens to his own footsteps as he walks up the stairs; it’s a gentle pattern, familiar yet so distant, and he thinks he likes it.

He likes being alive.

—

Steaming hot water beats down on his back, and he rests his hands on the cold tile under the shower head to hold himself up. He doesn’t know why he feels so exhausted all of a sudden. It seemed to come in waves.

But he wasn’t going to be the person who sits in the shower, so he continues with the shampoo and soap until his skin feels raw from scrubbing and his eyes burn with conditioner.

He shuts them, taking in the feeling of warmth and the smell of _clean_ and the dull, soothing sound of falling water. He thinks of nothing else, none of his past mistakes, not the people he’s lost, just exists inside himself, and for a moment everything is okay again.

—

“So what does the public think?” Tony asks. He and Natasha are eating Chinese take-out. They took a rain check on the frozen pizza.

“Huh? Think about what?” she mumbles around a mouthful of food.

“About me,” he says. “You know. Everything.”

“Um... I think it’s public knowledge that Ultron was your robot,” she says, slowly. “Right?”

“Yeah, but what do they _think_?”

“How am I supposed to answer that, Tony?” she asks.

He knows she’s still trying to walk on eggshells around him, but he’s a little tired of that. 

“Just _answer_ it,” he says. “What does everyone think?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Steve told me I should go on TV,” Tony explains, twisting his fork in his noodle bowl. “I just... I don’t know.”

“Oh.” She frowns. “Makes sense.”

“What does?”

“You going public,” she responds. “That’s what most people do after... events.”

“Yeah. So, what do you think?”

“I think... you’re a very touchy subject right now. You know the internet these days.”

He swallows, nodding.

She continues. “There are some who defend you, and there are some who... who want to see you dead.” 

The words send a chill up his spine. He thinks that really shouldn’t spook him anymore, because of all he’s been through, but it does.

“Well, that’s not what I’d like to hear,” Tony chuckles, but there‘s a hint of fear in his voice. “You know, maybe this isn’t the best idea.”

Natasha’s eyes are gentle. “You have a way with people, Tony,” she reminds. “You can fix this. You need to give yourself a voice.”

“Give myself a voice.”

“Well, hiding away behind locked doors doesn’t exactly send the message you might want.”

Tony smiles bitterly at that. There’s another few minutes of a comfortable quiet, and then he clears his throat. 

“So I should call Pepper, hm?”

“I’d say so.”

“Okay.”

“How are you two?” She asks.

Tony lets out a sad laugh. “I don’t know. She’s scared of me, I think.”

Natasha blinks. “Scared of you?”

“I... I leveled a city,” he murmurs.

“_Ultron_ leveled a city,” she corrects. “You were just the idiot who wrote the code.”

“I guess.”

“You need to stop blaming yourself. Some of this was Banner, too.”

“Banner is gone.”

Natasha seems to falter a moment before responding. “That doesn’t matter.”

He swallows. “I guess not.”

She lets out a slow exhale, looking up at Tony with a look he hasn’t seen from her in a very long time. It’s sad, because she doesn’t bother to hide her sadness around him, but it’s also hopeful. And that sort of scares him, too.

“You can do this,” she murmurs. “If anyone can fix this, it’s you.”

—

He calls Pepper the next day. He watches the buttons as the line turns green, and then waits a moment before holding the phone up to his ear.

“Hi, Tony,” Pepper says. 

“Yeah. Hi.” He sighs, wanting to melt into her voice. He can’t. 

“How are you doing?” She sounds concerned, and that makes him feel warm. 

“I’m... okay. Better.”

“Better,” she repeats. 

“Yeah.” 

There’s an odd silence for a moment before he realizes she’s waiting for him to talk. Because these days, there has to be a reason for him to call.

He tells her about Steve’s idea, and how he’s interested in more public outreach. She’s skeptical at first, which makes him nervous, but after a while she seems to accept that the motive is good. That this could be good.

“I’m gonna connect you to Fury for some briefing,” she says after some time. “Before you argue with me, yes, you need some briefing.”

“I was literally on the front lines,” he mutters. “There’s nothing about this I don’t already know.”

She sighs, and tells him something more, but at this point he’s not really listening to her words, just hearing the sound of her voice, like honey and sugar and velvet, and the stone that settled in his gut grew just a little bit smaller, like maybe, just maybe, things could be okay again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading please leave a comment for feedback ily !!


	3. He said he’s numb.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s just a little off the rails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it’s been a year or so since I updated but oh well!

The cool glass table under Tony’s fingertips sends shockwaves through his palm when he first touches it. They have the teleprompter set up in front of him and the reporter, which, in a few minutes, will spell out their conversation on live television. 

It’s a lot easier said than done, Tony notices, this whole being in the spotlight thing. It’s funny, because he’s lived his entire life like this, so he should be used to it, right? But this is different, because this time, he’s responsible for the deaths of thousands. He knows it, and everyone else does, too.

Pepper is here, like speck in the corner of his eye that he can’t ignore. She only came for management, but a part of him is glad anyways. 

“We’re on in three,” says a member of the tech crew, and somewhere in the background Tony can hear the familiar sound of commercials. There’s a sort of orderly hurry behind the teleprompter, and Tony’s aware of how much effort gets put into the news. He better not fuck this up.

The interview starts. It goes smoothly in the beginning, and he’s starting to think he’s getting the hang of it. Besides, these things are mostly scripted anyways, so it’s easy to detach himself from the words and autopilot.

The only issue with that is then, he can think. And thinking, Tony’s noticed, is bad.

”I just want to make it clear,” Tony reads, “that Stark Industries will not be taking in company profit this fiscal year. All earnings will go to our employees, relief funds, and charity—“

He continues reading, but he can feel his brain start to disconnect. He feels that daunting, familiar trickle crawl up his spine, and he’s filled with dread. It’s coming.

He takes a breath in between sentences, eyes darting to the corner of the room that Pepper’s standing in, like a telescopic cry for help. But the show must go on, and he reads on cue, without missing another beat. Perfectly rehearsed, perfectly polished. It’s all so plastic.

What was he even thinking? What was Steve thinking? He couldn’t do this. He destroyed that city, killed thousands of people. He deserved to be in prison, or dead, or tortured— not set free and live on air. None of this matters. 

It cuts to commercial, finally; those ten minutes felt like years. He exhales slowly, and the buzzing behind the camera meshes into one collective sound. 

“You’re hiding it well,” Pepper murmurs. He flinches, glancing to his right. 

He breathes deeply and slowly, staring a little too long into her eyes. He’s amazed by how well she knows him. Even after all these years.

“I have to,” he says, swallowing thickly. He knows he can’t allow himself to break right now, because if he does, he won’t be able bring himself back down in time. He just has to put it off until later, until this is all over.

“Yeah, you do,” she sighs. “I’m sorry. I thought you were ready.”

“It’s fine,” he breathes, keeping everything under control. His hands are shaking, but that’s okay. He can just hide them under the table.

“You have twenty more minutes of air time. You can do this.”

“I have to,” he repeats softly, noticing the countdown above the teleprompter that tells them when they go live again. He hardens his outer shell, preparing himself.

And then, as if time has decided to take mercy on him this time, it’s over. That organized frenzy returns, and his walls crumble when he feels Pepper’s gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay,” she asks.

He shakes his head slightly.

“Okay. That’s fine. We’ve got a car outside for you—“

“Please,” he mutters. “I can’t— I don’t know if— please, help me.”

She looks at him for a moment. “Yeah, okay. I can... just, here, put these sunglasses on, follow me.”

He breathes deeply, and stands up.

There’s so much light, and so much noise and movement around them, but he focuses on Pepper’s back and they weave through the doors and crowds and fluorescent rooms. 

And then they’re pushing through a door, to the hidden back lots, and he puts on his sunglasses and slips into the car. Pepper pauses for a moment, presumably deciding whether to sit in the back with Tony, or up front with the driver. She decides back seat.

Except Tony isn’t really aware of that right now, because he’s trying like hell to ignore his racing heart. It’s not working, though, and he can feel his breathing rate spiking.

“God fucking damnit,” he mutters, pulling his shirt up over his face. The panic comes in waves, little prickles all over his body, and the oxygen doesn’t carry well like this so his arms and legs go numb. 

“Tony, it’s okay,” Pepper murmurs, and her voice takes him back to a time when everything was normal. When his life wasn’t flipped on its axis. “It’s alright. You did fine.”

But the thing was, nothing was normal. Nothing will ever be normal again. He was just going to have to get used to this new version of normal.

And it’s not like he’s not used to being responsible for the deaths of innocent people. He was a was crime perpetrator for years before he shut down missile productions, but this... this was different. Maybe he’s going soft in his age.

“Maybe I’m not meant to be in the limelight anymore,” he whispers, rubbing his eyes harshly. “It— It’s not for me anymore.”

“Maybe not,” she admits. “Or maybe you just need more time.”

He inhales. “Time for what?” He says bitterly.

“To adjust,” she suggests. “To... heal.”

There’s a lump in his throat, but he thinks the panic may be subsiding. He credits that to the darkness and quiet, and Pepper’s presence. God, he doesn’t know how to live without her.

“You’re scared of me,” he whispers, shutting his eyes.

There’s no response, and his heart sinks. “I knew it.”

“That’s not true,” she murmurs.

“If I could go back in time and stop myself from writing that code, you know I would,” he says, strained. “I’d do it a million times over, if it meant none of it happened.”

“I know.”

“I never meant—“

“Tony,” Pepper interrupts softly, “stop it. Stop blaming yourself.”

He pauses, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Okay,” he says, because he knows any argument he has will just be refuted, and he doesn’t have the energy to fight right now.

There’s just silence after that, for the rest of the ride back to his private garage, under the tower. They enter the structure, and the familiar lighting gives him some sort of comfort. He exhales.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“You’re welcome,” she replies, and there’s a look in her eyes he can’t quiet place. Something like longing.

But he doesn’t acknowledge it, he just gathers his belongings and opens the door. He doesn’t wait for the car to drive away before he steps into the elevator.

—

It’s a starless night in the city. It reflects how he feels; hollow. Exhausted. He finds himself staring at a photograph he found in some file cabinet a few weeks ago, that he put out on the kitchen counter. It’s of him and Banner. He doesn’t remember when.

He stares at it for a while, trying like hell to bring it back, that feeling from the photograph. He was happy then, he remembers that much.

And so was Banner. But now he’s dead. Tony swallows dryly; he should be dead too, for all the sins he’s committed.

He grabs the keychain from the drawer, and makes his way downstairs until the cellar. He swiftly twists the key.

He picks the second bottle of aged brandy on the shelf.

—

He’s drunk by the time he makes his mind up to call Pepper.

It’s an easy decision, judging by the state he’s in, but it took him a while to get there.

They’re separated, and he’d told himself he wouldn’t depend on her like that. Like he does. Back and forth in his mind, he thought about it, until he was drunk enough for it not to matter.

He lets the phone ring once, then twice, and then she picked up. 

“Tony?”

“Pepper,” he says, looking up at the television. The news is on; it makes him feel less alone. “Pepper, I—“ he cuts off, unsure. What was he doing?

“What’s going on?”

“Thank you for making sure I was okay,” he says. “Earlier, I mean. At the studio.”

“Of course,” she murmurs. “Tony, are you drunk?”

“Yes,” he admits. “I just... I just wanted to talk. To you.”

She sighs. “Is this a good idea?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re drunk.”

“That’s better. I can say what I think a lot easier this way,” he says, only half kidding. 

“Okay,” she says, humorlessly.

“I was just thinking, uh...” he struggles with his words. “I mean, I just want to catch up.”

“Catch up?” She echoes hollowly. “You called me this late to just catch up?”

It’s then he realizes this was a bad idea.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes weakly. “Sorry, I just...” he realizes he doesn’t have an excuse, but he needs to say something. “It’s just... your voice makes everything better.”

“Tony...”

“No, it’s true. Everything you do. You save me, Pepper. I can’t... I don’t want to live without you. Not anymore.”

There’s a stretch of silence. 

Then, a quiet, “me neither.”

Hope floods his body.

“Then come back. Come back home.”

There’s more silence, and it’s almost as if he can hear her thinking.

“I can’t,” she whispers. “Tony, I can’t.”

And then she hangs up. His heart sinks, and that feeling of hopelessness spreads all the way to his fingertips. Her voice echoes in his mind, “I can’t,” over and over, until he’s distorted the sound so much it doesn’t even sound real. 

And then it dawns on him: there’s nothing he can do. There’s a new image of him in Pepper’s mind, forever changed from what it used to be. He’ll never be the person he once was, to her. 

He takes another swig of the brandy, feeling that sharp, familiar burn. He stares at his phone screen, but the letters all seem to blur together, and he doesn’t really want to put in the effort of reading. 

—

A week goes by without talking to another person. He knows it’s bad for him, but he can’t bring himself to care. He starts thinking that it’ll be this way forever, and he realizes he’s okay with that. He’s okay with being isolated.

Out of impulse, he buys a property in Washington state. He doesn’t really know why, but it’s something about the thought of fresh air, or the forests, or the rivers, that lured him in. He needs to get away from the city. As far away as he can.

—

He moves a week later, taking only a suitcase, and his computer. He figures he’ll be fine. It’ll take some time getting used to life without Friday, or a cell phone, but he’ll be okay.

It’s raining when the jet touches down in Seattle, which made him nervous for a bit during the landing. He doesn’t like not being in control.

The property is a lot more isolated the Tony even thought. It’s a few miles in every direction from another street. It rains as he drives the rental car through the winding forest, so hard he has the wipers on the highest setting. But there’s something about the rain that clears his mind, and he feels more sober than he has in months. He turns onto the driveway of his property, and he loves it already. He’s sure there’s more green within these twenty acres than in the entire city of New York.

The cabin is warm inside, a stark contrast to the cold winter rain outside. He checks the weather; snow is in the forecast. And it’s only then that he realizes he feels something like hope. 

—

When he goes to the market, nobody seems to recognize him. It’s like they’re all so far removed that they don’t really care who he is. He loves it.

When he shops for groceries, he doesn’t bother to buy any alcohol.

—

He’s almost forgotten what loneliness felt like. He’s alone, but he doesn’t feel lonely anymore, like he’s moved past that point. It doesn’t matter anymore.

Or at least, he thought he did, until one afternoon when he looked through his emails. Without his cell phone, he doesn’t know who has been contacting him. He figures it’s fine, it doesn’t matter; if they really wanted him, he’d get an email.

And so he did.

Steve. It had been a month since their last conversation— their last fall out.

The email is two lines: “Where did you go?” Is first, and then he followed it with a phone number. Delivered four days ago. He stares at it for a few minutes, until he musters up the courage to call back.

The phone rings only once. 

“It’s Tony,” he says, surprised by how weak his voice sounds.

“Hi,” Steve says. There’s a moment of silence. “You got my email.”

“Yeah.”

“So?”

“Where did I go,” Tony murmurs. “Far away from that city, that’s for sure.” 

“Far from New York.”

“Yes.”

“West coast?”

“A couple long miles outside of Seattle, Washington,” Tony answers. 

“Seattle,” Steve echoes. “Are you—“ he cuts off, but Tony knows what he wanted to say. 

Are you okay.

He realizes he doesn’t really know the answer to that. He’d numb, jaded, and his memory is shot. But he’s alive, so that’s got to count for something. 

“It’s nice out here,” Tony says softly. “It’s quiet.”

“I never pictured you as a retirement kind of man.”

“This isn’t retirement. It’s a break.”

“A break,” Steve murmurs. “A break from what?”

“From being in the limelight.”

“Your interview was fine,” Steve argues. “Besides, you’ll never really be out of the light.”

Tony realizes he’s right. He tries to ignore that. 

“That interview was hell,” he muttered. “I couldn’t fucking breathe half the time.”

“It’s bound to be hard in the beginning.”

“Not that hard,” Tony sighed. “Besides, I’m done with that. Tried one and done.”

“Well...” Steve trailed off, but Tony knew he had something to say.

“What?”

“Pepper called me,” he admitted. “She said to find you. She couldn’t reach you.”

“She clearly didn’t try,” he muttered. “You reached me just fine.”

“Tony...”

“No, it’s fine. What did she say?”

“Well... I’ll just connect you.”

He waited for a long minute, and then Pepper’s voice filled his ears.

“It’s Fury,” she said quickly. “He’s gone off this grid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know in the comments if I should keep going with this series. I have a few ideas of where it could go but I’m not sure yet haha
> 
> I do have another chapter lined up so stay tuned for that


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